Some Days, You're the Dog
by Thesaurusgirl
Summary: Rewards and Satifaction. Colby's about due. Don't you agree


**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the characters. This story follows This Could Be The Start of Something and Some Days, You're the Hydrant. Colby's had his share of being the whumpee. He's about to get a chance to do some whumping of his own. And for all you L.A. natives, I'm not from there so some of the streets and locations are fictional. Might as well get that out of the way.**

Some Days, You're the Dog

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His head hurt. That was the first thing that hit him when he woke up. Not just an ordinary headache. This was a genuine no-holds barred, take your head off pounder. The kind that usually held hands with a serious case of nausea. This one was no exception. Feeling the bile rise in his throat, he knew he had to find a bathroom, fast. Which he tried to do. That led to his second, most unpleasant discovery. He couldn't move. And he was in the dark. No, he decided, it wasn't just dark. There was a total absence of any light at all. And he was trapped in it.

"Wha…what…what the…? Why can't I..? What's going on?...His bewilderment only grew as he became more alert. He couldn't just not sit up, He couldn't move his arms or legs more than a few inches to either side. Disorientation warred with anger as he groped his way towards consciousness. Shaking off more of the effects of the drug he'd been given, he studied his surroundings. A growing panic began to envelope him as the understanding of where he was became clear. Shuddering with the effort, he struggled for control. Unable to see, he was forced to use his hands to help piece together what had happened to him. Lying flat on his back, reaching out with his fingertips, he encountered softness around and on both sides. As far up as he could reach, only about three inches, he met with what had the feel of…silk? Satin? He lowered his hands. No. No. The conclusion his limited investigation was dragging him to was one his mind shied away from, terrified. No. No, no, no. This wasn't possible! No, no, no! He felt his heart begin to race, breath beginning to come in shallow, rapid gasps. No, please, no, no, no, no, no!

Unreasoning desperation took over. Abandoning all attempt at staying composed, he lifted both hands as far as he could, hammering the surface just above him.

"Help! Help! HELP ME!! Somebody help!" He screamed as loud as he could, praying someone, anyone could hear his pleas. "Help!" he yelled, battering overhead with as much strength as his restricted movement would allow. "Please, somebody! Help me!!" he stopped, momentarily, winded by the effort. Just as he was about to begin again, he was prevented by the last thing he expected.

"I wouldn't continue to do that if I were you. Your oxygen supply is limited. The more you…exert yourself, the faster you deplete your reserve. Conserve your strength and you conserve your air." The unfamiliar voice, which he was astounded to realize was coming from a small speaker above his head continued on, dropping in volume as he responded, becoming more calm. "Very good, very good. That's it. You must remain as still as possible. Stay calm, and you may just stay alive."

"Who are you? Where are you? What…what did you do to me? Why did…" his demand for answers was cut short by the unfamiliar voice again.

"You will be told only what you need to know. Now, listen very carefully. Your instructions will not be repeated. To your left you will feel two buttons. Pressing the first will provided a minimal amount of light. Be aware that that also is a finite supply, so be judicious in your use of it. The second button will control how much of your oxygen supply is expended. How long both last is in your hands."

Silence descended on him again. Recalling what he'd heard, he inched his left hand along the side of his prison, touching what he had missed before, in his agitation and fear. Touching the first button he felt, he pressed. Dim as it was, the light made him flinch, hurting his eyes. In minute increments, he eased them open again, forcing himself to confront the terrifying reality of the situation. He'd been in tight spots before, times that caused his life to flash before him. This time, though, he was literally in over his head. He was buried alive.

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Skidding around the corner at fifty miles an hour, the Charger only fish-tailed slightly under Colby's capable guidance. Grabbing the dash, David held on, determined not to distract the other man from the matter at hand. The FBI's official policy regarding high speed chases was that they didn't happen. So, of course, here he and Colby were in the middle of one right now. The team had been tracking Vance Allard and his band of merry men for some time now, and this was the closest they'd gotten to any of the robbery crew. With the help of Charlie's math and Amita's computer skills, Granger and Sinclair found themselves reach out and touch close to one of Allard's gang, a wheelman named Steve Timmons. If that is, they could catch up to the rust covered 70's Camero speeding down Wilshire ahead of them. Cursing under his breath, Colby considered the irony. From the outside, the Camero looked as if it were ready for the junkyard, but the owner had clearly taken good care of the muscle car's inner workings. Still the two agents were managing to gain ground on their fugitive. They really needed to stop this guy. The idiot had already jumped the sidewalk twice, scattering startled pedestrians, but miraculously, not injuring or killing anyone.

Enough of this, Colby thought to himself. A quick check out of the corner of his eye told him David was already braced for another sharp turn, but Granger decided to warn him anyway. It was time to cut this clown off before they hit the Hollywood freeway.

"Hold on" he gritted out, cranking the wheel left and heading up a side street. An idea occurred to him. He kept it to himself. If David knew, his non-existent hair would stand on end. No mean feat. Mashing the accelerator, he coaxed more speed from his own vehicle's powerful engine. He was trying hard not to freak Sinclair out, but Colby was actually fighting the urge to grin. Secretly, or maybe not so secretly, Granger loved it when the bad guys tried to get away. When they fled on foot, he usually got to hit somebody with a flying tackle. When they used a car, he got a chance to satisfy his need for speed. Life was good. Ruthlessly, he smothered the beginnings of a feral smile. Liz and Nikki were approaching their target from the other direction, trying to box the bad guy in. As he spun the wheel again, Colby pushing the Charger to nearly the limit of it capabilities, David finally spoke up. He'd been trying to respect the "you complain, you drive rule" but this was starting to make him kind of nervous.

"Colby" he half shouted, "What are you up to?!" They were traveling pell-mell almost exactly in the opposite direction.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Colby shot a quick glance at his best friend and partner. "Do you really want to know?!" he shouted back over the engine noise, allowing the grin he'd been suppressing to surface.

Gripping the dash with one hand and the door's arm rest with the other, suddenly very glad he was buckled up tight, David considered the matter for a split second. "On second thought, no I don't! But if you get us killed, I'm gonna be seriously pissed off, you hear me!" With that, he shut up, letting Colby concentrate on his driving. "Maybe I should just close my eyes" he thought to himself. Before he could, however, David looked up and saw the car they'd been chasing, flying towards them, the other driver just as rudely shocked as he was by the position Granger's maneuvering had put both cars in. Blinking first , the driver of the rusty Camero stomped on his brakes, desperate to avoid a collision. Spinning sideways, he lost control, skidded off the road and headlong into a light post, hitting hard. The crash landing should have knocked him out cold, but adrenaline fueled his attempt to run away.

Standing on his own brake pedal, Colby jerked the FBI sedan to a halt, burning rubber on the street. He and David jumped out and rushed over, arriving just as Timmons was emerging, trying at the same time to pull a gun from his belt.

Drawing weapons and taking aim, both Sinclair and Granger yelled at the same time. "Drop it! Now!"

The warning proved unnecessary, as Timmons, more used to driving than shooting, bobbled the weapon, then dropped it. The crook had just managed to retrieve his gun, and then, before he could take aim, Colby was on him. The last thing Timmons saw before he ended up handcuffed in the back of the Charger was a large fist, backed by an angry FBI agent, coming right at him.

"This is gonna hurt a lot," the getaway driver had just enough time to think to himself. He was right.

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Denny Carpenter was _very_ nervous. Vance was smiling. That was always a bad sign. When his stepbrother smiled, it meant he'd come up with an idea that had a bad day for somebody on the other end of it. Hopefully, Denny kept thinking, not me.

Denny had learned to be wary of Vance's good moods when they were children. Their mom, married to Denny's dad since Denny was three and Vance was four, doted on her "brilliant star". Vance could do no wrong in her eyes, and Denny, the "ordinary" son, had learned quickly that it did no good to complain when his brother's considerable brain power launched scheme after scheme. Some turned out well. Those Vance took all the credit for. Denny usually ended up with the blame for those that didn't. Not that he deserved it, but he got it anyway. Living in the shadow of a genius brother earned "D.C", as he was called, an ulcerated stomach by the tender age of nineteen. Graduating from high school and going off to college, D.C. saw his chance to break free. He'd eagerly packed his belongings and headed off to a university as far from home as possible. Denny remembered smiling the entire trip across country. He was so happy to be going away to school that he missed the secretive looks between his parents. Likewise, the somewhat mysterious reception received by the registrar's office went largely over his head, so determined was he to start his Vance-free life. The sense of euphoria he felt lasted until he reached his dorm room, opened the door, and seen waiting for him, his new roommate. Vance. His parents and brother had conspired to "surprise" him, enlisting the university's aid to pull the whole thing off. His healing ulcers had flared up again that day and been with him ever since.

Over the years Vance had gone from shady to criminal, dragging his unwilling younger brother along for the ride. Einstein smart, and just as unstable, Allard perpetrated whatever contrivance caught his imagination, counting as always on Denny's practiced ability to clean up the mess. Which Denny always did, because the other thing he'd learned about his new stepbrother when they were both young children was that Vance was psychotic, gleefully so. Like during the jewelry store robbery the gang had pulled yesterday. Thinking about it made Denny's stomach roil. A dead security guard and a pistol-whipped store owner. Just for pleasure. " An afternoon of fun and profit" Vance called it. Denny knew he had to get away. He just didn't know how.

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Unobtrusively as he could manage, Don Eppes muffled the escaping yawn. It was early, very early, but as he made his way towards his desk, after a shockingly brief amount of sleep, Eppes found Granger and Sinclair already at work. Coming back from the break room, Nikki Bentancourt's hands were both holding large cups of coffee.

His "hello" was answered by a chorus of "morning, boss's". Nikki presented him with one of the cups coffee, placing it with a flourish on his desk. He looked up.

"Two sugars, just a splash of cream, just the way you like it" she told him brightly.

"Take notes, you two" he said to David and Colby, "this is the way to get on the boss's good side first thing in the morning" he said loftily, thanking Nikki for the morning jolt.

" Can't Don. My suck-up to the boss day is Thursday" Colby cracked dryly.

"Yeah, well, after the call I got from Timmons attorney yesterday, I think you could use a little extra credit. He's threatening sue you, me, the Bureau and everybody else he can think of on behalf of his client. Claims you're guilty of assault . Broke the man's nose, split his lip open. Says Timmons needed stitches" Don said. His tone implied he wasn't terribly worried about the lawyer's threats.

David jumped in at this point. "Huh, he's lucky not to be visiting his client in the morgue. When Colby popped him, Timmons was trying to drawn down on us."

"Be sure that ends up featured prominently in the report." Don was satisfied. Someone had the idea to try and shoot at two of his agents. That someone paid dearly for that stupid decision. He didn't have a problem with that in the least. Besides, David was right. Anybody even thinking about taking a shot at Colby Granger or David Sinclair should be thankful to be alive. Especially Granger. People dumb enough to shoot at Colby tended to get dead in a hurry. The fact that Timmons lived to learn that lesson was proof that God did indeed look out for babies and fools.

"Colby, I need you and Liz" he paused to acknowledge the arrival of Agent Warner, " to follow-up with the witnesses at the jewelry store. David, you and Nikki take the rare coin dealer. I need to talk to Charlie. Better get there before class time." With everybody having their marching orders, the group split up to accomplish their various tasks.

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Granger's stomach rumbled loudly enough as he and Liz were pulling out of the parking garage to draw attention from the other agent. Embarrassed by his protesting gut, Colby resolutely refused to acknowledge her amused look.

"Uh, maybe we should stop and put something in that thing first. We're not going to get much out of these interviews if these poor people have to yell over your stomach to be heard"

"Do you mind?" he sniffed in mock offense. "Some of us didn't have time to grab breakfast before coming in this morning. Other people who come strolling in at the crack of noon shouldn't criticize" he finished.

"It's seven-thirty, Colby. That's hardly midday. And anyway, I don't think well when I'm hungry," Liz answered. "Why don't we stop by Brogan's on the way to the hospital. They were going to interview the owner of _Il Bello_, the jewelry store that had been hit by Allard's gang the day before. "Visiting hours don't start for another hour anyway"

Covertly grateful for the chance to fill up the empty space with sustenance, he was already anticipating the "southwest scramble" that was the early morning eatery's specialty. Carefully concealing a smile, Colby shrugged.

"I guess I could eat" he said in a deliberately offhand manner. His stomach picked that moment to very audibly agree with him, again. Liz rolled her eyes, chuckling. Colby sighed theatrically. So much for his dignity.

The restaurant in question was a short three blocks away from the FBI offices. A recent addition to the area, it managed to carve a niche for itself by serving up scrumptious early morning meals to those whose jobs tended to have irregular schedules. Pulling in to the already crammed parking lot, across the street, they managed to squeeze into the lone space available, between a marked LAPD car, and an unmarked one that had "police vehicle" nonetheless written all over it. Finding a table was going to be a bit of a challenge. The place was packed. The patrons were mostly LAPD, but Colby spied a couple of faces from _Live Action News_! Probably coming from or going to some kind of location story. He looked around, spotting an unoccupied table in the back nearest to the kitchen. Heading for it, Granger automatically scanned faces as he walked. Getting a look at one of them, he stopped so abruptly that Liz, caught off guard, collided with his broad-shouldered back.

"What the heck are you doing!?" she asked, more startled than irritated.

"I know that face" he told her, gravely voice taking on a disgusted tone. She followed his gaze, which had landed on an LAPD uniformed officer. "Only the last time I saw it, the guy it belongs to was holding an assault rifle on me with his foot in my back." He filled Warner in on the LAPD raid debacle.

Clapping him on the arm, she urged him forward. 'Let it go, Colb, let it go"

Taking a deep breath, he made to walk past the officer, who stiffened noticeably, flushing. Apparently, the recognition was mutual. Once he and Liz were seated at their own table, Colby could hear the man explaining his reaction to his dining companions. Big mistake. The hapless officer then proceeded to receive a good-natured but merciless ribbing from his fellow cops. They bore in on the guy so relentlessly that even Colby began to feel a small amount of sympathy for him. He stood up to go over and make nice. As he took the first step, there was a blinding flash and then..._BOOM_!

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_The hummer lay on its back like a stricken beast, engulfed in smoke and flame. Knocked senseless in the initial blast from the RPG, Colby awoke to find himself trapped by red-hot metal. The thick choking black cloud of superheated air seared his lungs, stealing the life breath with ravenous clawing fingers. Deafend by the explosion, he could see but not hear the crackle of the fire slowly advancing on him, greedily seeking his life. He closed his eyes, unwilling to bear witness to his own death. Feeling hands grabbing and pulling at him, he opened them. Carter…_

Jolted back to the present by the sound of screams and moans of pain, Colby shook off the memory, raising his head to stare into Brogan's now destroyed kitchen. His mind assembled the disjointed pieces. He could see the injured workers, unable to escape, hampered by the debris generated by the explosion. Bleeding and out cold, the restaurant's cook lay sprawled next to what had been the stove, oblivious to the danger he was in. The young waitress, his niece dazed and terrified, was pinned beneath a heavy, rolling cart and the heap of pots and pans it had contained. Her eyes met Colby's in mute appeal for aid. Shaking off the shock of the explosion, he propelled himself forward. These people needed help, and he could smell a ruptured gas line. Things were definitely headed south, and at a gallop, too. Mack Brogan and his niece, and everybody else for that matter, needed to get out of here before it was too late.

He looked around for Warner. Liz had been shoved backward by the shock of the blast by several feet but was conscious and in the process of getting to her feet. All around them, the injured were being assisted by those who were unharmed. Ironically, she and Granger had both been protected by the heavy wooden lunch counter with its brass railing, an authentic holdover from bygone days. It had absorbed the brunt of the detonation. Others, seated farther away had not been so fortunate.

"Are you ok?" Colby asked, raising his voice to be heard amid the chaos. A cacophony of sounds, approaching sirens, requests for help and those recovering from the shock competed for his hearings' attention.

"Yeah, I'm good. You?" she got his nod of assent in reply. Granger motioned in the direction of the kitchen, standing up with an effort. The smell of gas was getting stronger, building for another, perhaps bigger blowup. Starting for it, he felt a tug on his arm.

Warner had to get close up and half yell directly in Colby's ear to be heard.

"We gotta get out of here! This place is gonna go up for real! I can smell it!"

Colby pulled away, shaking his head emphatically. "There are two people trapped back there! Somebody's gotta help 'em get out!"

Moving a chuck of twisted brass, he picked his way thru the wreckage of what used to be the eating house's lunch counter. Feeling a presence behind him, he turned to find Liz at his left shoulder.

"Come on, let's get 'em and move out! We don't have much time. She gonna go up like a roman candle!"

Struggling their way thru they got to Mack Brogan and his niece, who was crying softly. Grabbing the stunned girl, Liz help her up and out of the back door into the alley. Hefting the dazed restaurant owner in a fireman's carry Colby followed suit, urgency nipping at his heels. Everyone else was out. They were the last ones. Huffing with the effort, Colby rushed down the alley, staggering slightly under the weight of the semi-conscious man he'd rescued. They had to hurry. The margin of safety, he figured, could now be measured in inches. Then, without warning, a second explosion twice the force of the first rocked the alley, blowing out the buildings' rear exterior. The area was inundated with brick, mortar, and glass. The concussion knocked Colby and Liz to the ground, carrying Brogan and his niece down also. They'd had just barely gotten clear. Exhaling with an enormous sigh of relief, the two federal agents looked at each other, Liz shaking her head, and then rose, finally getting the wounded to the mouth of the alleyway.

They discovered firefighting personnel and EMS waiting to relieve them of their burdens.

They also found the _Live Action News_! crew busily reporting. "We bring it to you first!" Having the great good fortune to find themselves literally in the middle of a breaking news story. They'd finished their breakfast and been on the way to their car when the blast happened, and only needed to turn around and begin filming.

"Wonderful" Colby thought sourly. "Just what we need, the talking heads crawling all over this for the six o'clock news." Not for the first time, Granger found himself grateful for the police barricades, which helped keep that particular annoyance at a distance. Using the barriers for all they were worth Colby and Liz, after checking in with everyone they needed to at the scene, managed to make it back to their car, without either having to suffer an assault via microphone or tv camera.

Liz looked down at her now soot filled torn clothing. She checked Colby, who was no better off.

"Ok, back to work for a change of clothes?"

"Absolutely" Colby agreed. He actually let Liz drive without an argument and checked his watch. Was it only eight-thirty? He was tired already.

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Coming out of the showers in the locker room, Granger vigorously rubbed at his wet hair with a thick towel. He definitely felt better now that he was clean and didn't smell like smoke. Liz probably felt the same way. He laughed silently, remembering the puzzled looks they'd attracted coming back in to the building. Two agents with ripped clothing, and hair askew, looking and smelling as if they'd been dragged kicking and screaming thru a gigantic ashtray were bound to gather more than a few double-takes.

Changing as quickly as he could into the spare set of clothes he always kept in his locker, he met Warner coming of the locker room reserved for female agents. They still needed to interview the owner of _Il Bello_, and now they were running behind.

"Better let Don know what happened, then we can get back to work, 'kay?" he suggested.

"Yeah, sure" Liz responded quickly. She noted again how smoothly she and Colby worked together. One more reason she was glad to have reached the decision to stay in L.A. Besides, it was fun giving him a hard time.

Colby marked the ease with which they worked together too. When he'd returned to the team after the spy mess, Liz had been the only who'd one simply taken the whole convoluted situation in stride, treating him no differently than before. No hostility, guarded looks, or in Megan's case, on-the-sly pseudo psych evaluations. Just "you drive" on the way to work the Hollywood homicide case. He appreciated _that_ more than anything else. Maybe someday he'd tell her.

As the elevator transported them to the fifth floor, Colby's neglected stomach grumbled hugely again, reminding both that in all the confusion, he was still sans a morning meal. He couldn't help it. It started as a quiet snicker and built slowly until he was doubled over in a full blown guffaw. He looked over to see Liz with both hands over her mouth, trying and failing to hold in her own laughter. Finally she surrendered, pounding the side of the elevator with mirth. The lone secretary traveling to the AD's office on a paperwork errand was wondering if she should have just taken the stairs.

Getting off at their stop, they were both hoping to find Don returned from his trip to CalSci, expecting to let him in on the events at the restaurant and then get back to the job. What they didn't expect, however, was the reception they received upon entering the bull-pen. From all over the office, Granger and Warner were getting a real live enthusiastic standing ovation. There were even a couple of whistles and an out-of-date "woof-woof " (that person obviously needed to get out more.)

Blushing to the roots of his hair, Colby could see Liz was equally confused. Don, who had indeed returned from the university, came forward, clapping with the rest, amused at the bafflement of the other two.

"I'm not sure how you two would look in tights" he said, still enjoying the surprised confusion they were showing.

"How…how…uh, Don, what's going on? What is all this?" Colby asked, checking out the slowly dispersing crowd.

"Everybody here caught the Colby and Liz show this morning. You two are 'breaking news" in case you didn't know." Don responded, smiling. He gestured at the TV's scattered throughout the large cubicle-filled space. He reached out to push Liz Warner's mouth shut.

"Nice work you two. Now if you're done saving the world, fold up your capes and get back to work, huh" Eppes said, shooing them off with the air of a proud SSA taking the sting out of the words.

"That's my guy" Kerri Walton said softly, closing her briefcase and preparing to leave for court. The television in her own office, tuned to _Live Action News_! featured the story of the restaurant explosion and the two FBI agents saving Mack Brogan and his teenage niece. Of course, Colby Granger wasn't officially hers, but she was increasingly coming to think of him that way in the privacy of her own mind. A wicked sort of grin crept across her face. A hero deserved a hero's reward. The grin grew wider as she mentally planned for the next time she would see him.

Lots of people saw the news story. One of them was Denny Carpenter, who was suddenly seized by a crazy, desperate hope. He tried to crush it, but it wouldn't go away. Checking to make sure Vance was not around, he reached for the phone.

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Colby climbed tiredly into his charcoal grey F-150 that evening thinking it had been a good day. Long, but good. Productive. He and Liz put in a fair amount of time in hospital rooms, but it was time well spent. Between the recovering owner of the jewelry store Allard's crew had hit, and the jailhouse visit to Steve Timmons, the imprisoned former getaway driver, they now knew things about the robber that could shorten their search a lot. If nothing else, it would give Charlie more data to work with. The army man turned agent was confident of one thing. Give Charlie enough information, and the professor turned into Archimedes with curly hair and a better wardrobe. He could move the world.

Colby smiled evilly. The interrogation of Timmons was one of the more enjoyable parts of the day. The presence of the suspects' attorney notwithstanding, verbally putting Timmons thru the wringer was, Granger admitted to himself, was… ah heck, it was fun. And after all, wasn't finding enjoyment in one's work a good thing? He ignored Liz's amusement at the way Timmons shrank away from the FBI agent who'd caused him a serious amount of pain. Colby reserved his sympathy for the victims. Inserting the key into the ignition, the V-8 engine roared to life. Fortunately, though, he'd left his main service weapon in his locker, because before he could shift into gear, he got a considerable shock. Warm, soft hands, of the feminine variety, eased slowly from behind him, down both sides of his body. Temporarily halting at his belt buckle, they paused to undo it, and unsnap the button on his jeans. Working the zipper down, the left hand completed its journey, traveling down past the elastic waistband of his boxers to a final resting place. Cupping him gently. Kerri Walton, turned Colby's head to capture a sultry kiss, pleased at both his look of amazed pleasure and the more obvious welcome her presence was receiving elsewhere.

Releasing his mouth, hers migrated in soft, feathering caresses down his jaw line and neck until she reached the hollow of his throat, velvety soft lips and warm tongue resting there hungrily. The analytical part of his mind reminded him that this immensely pleasurable interlude was happening in a public place, one in which they could be observed at any time. Analytical, however, was losing control fast. Before all his good judgment was completely eaten up by the endorphins going off like a fourth of July fireworks display in his brain, he pulled away, taking a deep breath. Colby turned, getting a better look at the lovely lady unexpectedly ensconced in the passenger seat of the extended cab. He smiled.

"Hi, baby"

She smiled right back, lighting the night for him. "Hi yourself. I saw you this morning. On TV, I mean. I was so proud of you I wanted to jump on top of my desk and make an announcement. "See that guy, the one who just save a man's life? He all mine!" Giggling, Kerri fairly bounced out of the truck's rear compartment and climbed into the front with Colby. Once there, she pulled him into another passionate kiss, tongue mingling with his. This time it was she who pulled back, one corner of her mouth still pulled up slightly.

"I had help you know" he felt compelled to point out. Coming close again until her mouth was nearly brushing his, she answered, the heat of her body paradoxically sending a chill thru him.

"I'll send a card." She eyed him, her look making her intentions unmistakable. "Right now, I think you should take me to your place, so I can show you what kind of reward a lifesaver should _properly_ receive. Drive baby." Colby drove. Fast.

Fifteen minutes later, the door of his apartment crashed open, Colby and Kerri nearly falling in, arms wrapped around one another. As he kicked the door shut with one foot his hands were already occupied, undoing the buttons of her silk blouse to expose the lacey brassiere underneath. Unfastening the garment (clasp in the front!, oh yeah!) with shaking fingers, he lowered his head to taste the tip of one breast and then the other with his mouth, her soft sounds of desire urging him on. She grabbed his shirt in both hands and ripped. Buttons flew in every direction as Kerri pulled up the T-shirt Colby had on to expose the golden skin of his chest. She echoed his earlier motion, exploring the region with her mouth. He stood her up, removing her blouse and bra, leaving her bare from the waist up, then began to remove her remaining clothing, breath coming raggedly as his eyes devoured her form. Just as eagerly, she was doing the same for him, pausing with a mischievous look to tweak him playfully as she helped him to step out of his boxers and jeans. Then the playfulness disappeared as she held him, squeezing lightly, once, twice. He growled lightly, emerald gaze catching fire. Colby looked over Kerri's shoulder to the bedroom. She turned her back to him, giving him a princely view of coming attractions. Dancing lightly just out of reach, she crooked a finger at him, daring him to follow. When he did , she skipped out of reach again, laughing, a shimmering sound. Fully aroused now, he made a determined lunge, gathering her into his arms, chuckling. Colby's grab for Kerri left them both off-balance. Unable to recover in time, they tumbled to the carpeted floor. As her legs came up to encircle his waist, hands exploring his muscular expanse, he knew they weren't going to make it to the bed.

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Colby exited his apartment the next morning in a bit of a rush. He wasn't exactly late, just later than normal. After his crack to Liz Warner the day before, he was pretty sure she wouldn't let him hear the end of it if she made it in before he did. He did linger long enough to make sure of two things. First was breakfast. One restaurant explosion per week was his limit, thanks. Two was to pickup up Kerri's lace-topped thigh high stocking, which he found lying just inside his door. That was one of the sexiest things about Kerri. She didn't like pantyhose, but instead chose to wear thigh highs, sometimes with garters. She'd probably dropped this on her way out. Rising at least an hour before Colby, Kerri kissed him and left, explaining she needed to get home to shower and change for court. Granger raised the bit of hosiery to his face, inhaling her lingering scent, then tucked it into his pocket. Perhaps there would be a chance to return it to her later.

The drive to work, windows down, gave him a chance to wake up completely and clear his head. Mind already clicked into work mode by the time he pulled into the parking garage (remembering to lock his truck this time, "how do you think I got in?" Kerri teased him), he was thinking about the case while headed to the bull-pen. Pre-occupied and sorely in needed of another caffine hit, Colby could thus be forgiven for plowing into and nearly over the young woman who appeared suddenly in front of him. With an astonished "ooof!" she landed on the floor rump first, pink "while-you-were-out" message sheets flying. Looking up at Granger, eyes wide behind her black rimmed rectangular glasses, her mouth hung open in a surprised "O".

Colby was aghast. "Oh, man, I'm really sorry. Here, let me help you up" he said, extending a hand, which she accepted. "Really, I apologize. I didn't mean to knock you down." He smiled to punctuate the apology, leveling the full effect of his green eyes on the woman. A little charm couldn't hurt.

"Oh, uh, uh, it, it…it's okay. I, I'm…uh…I'm okay. Th… thanks" she replied. She was clearly painfully shy, "I, I, I, um, I meant to give these to you yesterday, I really did. But, but, but, well, uh, you were in and out all day and then I left for the day and, and… and I forgot to leave them on your desk, and well, I, I, I'm really sorry" she finished stammeringly, thrusting the messages into his hand and rushing off, still flustered.

He stared after her, bemused. Then, shaking his head at his close encounter of the secretarial kind, he looked at his messages. Brow furrowing, he continued into the bull-pen finally reaching his desk. With relief, he noted that not only had he beat Liz in but David and Nikki too. Only Don was here ahead of him so far, but that was the norm.

"Morning, Don" Colby greeted his boss getting a mumbled reply. Don was perusing the overnights again. Granger looked at the messages once more, puzzled. Who was Denny Carpenter? Coming to the third message left for him, Colby took a sharp breath and held it. The message read "Agent Granger, we need to meet right away. You want to talk to me. I can give you Vance Allard." It was from the same source as the other messages, Denny Carpenter. With a tingle of excitement he turned in his chair. "Don, I think I might have something here."

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The shadowed corner of the little church was just out of reach of the late-afternoon rays of sunshine illuminating the nave. Shaking from the realization that he was actually here, Denny Carpenter nearly jumped right out of his skin when the door opened. A neighborhood resident coming for weekly confession. Letting out a quivering breath, he tried to distract himself by contemplating the colorful display pouring thru the stained-glass windows. It didn't work. Why was it taking this Agent Granger so long to get here! If he didn't arrive soon, Denny was going to lose his resolve! He just knew it! All the years of tightrope walking around Vance left Denny's nerve's stretched as taunt as a piano's high "C". No more, he couldn't take anymore. It had to stop. That was what he'd told himself last night, by all appearances, listening attentively to Vance's plans for their next criminal exercise, but in reality, not actually hearing it. His mind's eye was busy contemplating the story he'd seen earlier on Channel 10, _Live Action News!_

Denny had tried over and over to banish the thought, to suppress it, make it go away. But, insidiously, it insisted on creeping back every time he did. The restaurant explosion, the rescue, the two FBI agents.

That's what _he_ needed, Denny decided. Somebody who wasn't afraid. Somebody to protect him. Somebody Vance couldn't intimidate. This Granger looked to fit the bill. If the man wasn't afraid to charge into an exploding building and pull out people he barely knew, maybe the agent could finally be Denny's way out of the nightmare on Vance street. With a skill borne of patient practice, D.C. managed to keep his genius brother from noticing his change in attitude. Maneuvering around Vance's cronies, members of the crew, Denny crafted a story to cover his leaving the gang's hideout. Ultimately, the chance came to make the calls, when Vance was distracted or sleeping. Allard was smugly lax, sure that his cowed sibling lacked the spine to even consider defiance. For once, his contemptuous estimation worked in someone else's favor. After several calls, Denny succeeded in making contact with Agent Colby Granger. Summoning every ounce of courage bequeathed to him from the day of his birth, Denny arranged a meeting with the FBI. Now he waited, certain that at any second, it would all come crashing in on him, he would feel a hand on his shoulder, and turn to see Vance's coolly cruel blue-gray eyes boring thru to his soul. He was about to shake apart! Where was Granger!! His head fell into his hands. He couldn't take anymore! This was never going to work! He had to get back! Now! Before he was missed, if he hadn't been already! He'd have to think of a story to tell Vance, just in case his absence looked suspicious! He was so stupid to think he could get away with something like this! Idiot! Dolt! Moron! He had to go, he had to …, he, he, he almost ended up clutching the ceiling with his finger and toenails like a cartoon cat when a hand actually did land on his shoulder. He spun around, gasping, ready to confront Vance with the first thing that came prattling out. Instead, Denny ended up looking into the leaf colored eyes of the FBI agent he was there to meet.

Colby's first impression was of a bespectacled,, twitchy guy just this shy of dissolving into a puddle. That jibed with the voice on the phone alright. Barely audible at times, the person Granger spoke to seemed so skittish that despite the apparent willingness to help the Bureau catch Allard, Colby had to coax, very subtly, his subject into agreeing to a meeting. This had to be the same man from the messages and phone call. Still best to be sure.

"Denny Carpenter?" Colby worded the query softly, trying to settle the other man down some.

"Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes!" Denny stammered out in a rush. His heart was hammering madly in his chest. Please let this be Granger, he pleaded silently. "Please, please, you gotta help me! You have to! I can't go back now! If I do, he'll know! Please, I can give you Vance! I can give you Vance! Please don't make me go back! I can't go back! Please!" Denny clutched at the FBI agent, anxiety bubbling over.

"Hey, back up!" Colby drew back slightly, establishing a buffer zone. "Look, you need to take a breath, ok? Nobody's gonna make you go back, alright. Just take it easy. Now, why don't you tell me why we're here. What's your connection to Allard? How can you put him in FBI custody, huh?"

"Not here! Not here! Please, you don't understand! He probably already knows something is wrong! I shoulda been back by now! He's looking for me! I know he is. You gotta take me someplace safe! Someplace he can't get to me! Please! I'll tell you everything you want to know, but just not here!" Denny's strained whisper carried in the limited confines of the quiet house of worship. Looking around, Colby saw that his unusual conversation had drawn the attention of the priest and a parishioner. Reaching around behind him, he pulled a pair of cuffs off his belt. Denny's eyes widened.

"What, what are you doing?" Carpenter asked, "I, I…"

"Look, you want to come, this is how it happens." Colby explained gently. His would be informant, he could see, needed very careful handling. He put a hand on Carpenter's arm. "We'll take you back to our office. He won't be able to get to you there. And I'm not going to let him hurt you. I promise. Come on let's go" He urged the other forward, trying as much as possible to take it easy on the man. David Sinclair was waiting as they approached the carved oaken front door. His presence seemed to alarm Denny, who attempted to dig in his heels. Colby forstalled that by continuing to move forward, forcing Carpenter to do the same. The three exited the church, moving down a short flight of stone steps to the car. As they did, none were aware they were being observed.

Whoever once famously said that "even paranoids can have enemies" hadn't known it at the time, but they'd been describing Vance Allard to a tee. Vance distrusted Denny, his own stepbrother, for the simple reason that Vance distrusted everyone. Firmly convinced that sooner or later, everyone he knew would betray him. So when his submissive, timid stepbrother actually attempted to be evasive. making up a feeble transparent excuse to leave the gang's hideout, Allard had him tailed. And little Denny, mousey, scared little Denny, who's only attribute was his formidable skill at hacking computers, ran straight to the feds. Watching the two agents drive off with Denny Carpenter, the watcher dreaded reporting back in to his boss. Vance _really _wasn't going to like this.

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Colby and David stood outside the interview room, looking at the sleeping Denny Carpenter, who, exhausted, had folded his arms on the table, head resting on top of them.

Two hours of low-key but probing questioning by Granger, apparently the only one the timorous man would trust, yielded a font of invaluable information on the team's current target, Vance Allard. Neither of them could help but see the irony. Here they'd been one step behind Allard for weeks, racing to catch up, and then the answer to their case literally walked up and surrendered.

A firm believer in not looking a free equine creature in the teeth, Don Eppes had been very willing to allow Colby to pull every ounce of info he could from the frightened Denny. Something of an accomplished questioner in his own right, Don could appreciate the subtlety with which Colby handled the interrogation. One look at their subject told Don pushing too hard would make the man totally shut down. Colby's interview technique, learned and honed in Army CID and fine-tuned during his years with the Bureau, reminded Don of the baby bear's porridge. Not too hot or cold, but just right. The team now had a location, chapter and verse on Allard's activities and plans and lot more insight into what made their fugitive tick.

"No wonder we're having so much trouble getting our mitts on this guy" Colby commented to his partner as they watched the spent Denny snore softly in the other room. " I mean, I know the prison shrinks put his I.Q. well above average, but, David, his brother makes Allard sound like a psycho, criminally bent version of Charlie" Colby observed.

"Yeah" David agreed. "But you know, even smart psycho's can get tripped up, huh?"

"Colby, David" Don pulled the two plus Nikki and Liz into a huddle, determined not to let this break in the case go cold on them. Denny Carpenter had given them a location. They needed to move on it right away. Leaving their witness/informant/not quite a suspect in the custody of other agents, the five teammates geared up quickly and left.

Forty minutes later, Vance Allard watched thru high tech binoculars as the FBI raid on his gang's hastily abandoned hideout went down. When the crewmember he'd sent to keep an eye on his nebbish brother returned without him, the crime boss's already rampant paranoia had gone off the rails. Good thing too, he thought, or he would be in cuffs right now, with feebies standing over him, gloating. That couldn't be allowed. "I'm the one in control here" he thought, "and it _will_ stay that way." This was his game so he got to make the rules. It was enjoyable, keeping the feds and cops trailing along in his wake, letting them stay just within range to make things interesting.

Now, however, the balance had been tipped. He never would have guessed that Denny had the balls to step out of the dark and actually make a move against him. He was almost proud of his stepbrother, almost. When he got Denny back, and he would get him back, the family reunion should be interesting. Hmm. Family. Eyes glittering dangerously, the smile that came across Vance's face would have had poor Denny peeing himself.

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Professor Charles Eppes waited until the last student of his last class was gone before kissing Amita. Their relationship was out in the open, both with the staff and the student body. Still, Charlie felt obliged to try and set some sort of example. So he waited an entire five seconds after the door closed behind Emily Sutcliff before wrapping his arms around his lady love and bussing her soundly.

"I miss you already" he told her, speaking the words into her silky abundance of glossy hair, reluctant to release his hold. Amita was leaving for a month long visit with her parents. She would fly out tonight. A whole month. He wanted to ask her not to go, knowing that if he asked she would stay, but his newfound acceptance by Amita's family was still fragile. He didn't want to put any strain on it. So he did his best to put a cheerful face on things.

"I'm not gonna be gone forever, you know, I am coming back" she teased him lightly.

"Yes, I know, and I will manfully carry on in your absence. Missing you every second of every minute of every hour until you do come back. Now, before I make a complete idiot of myself, can we please go get you into your car and get you to the airport?"

"Oh, wait! I forgot, I need to stop by my office and do one last check in before I go. Can I meet you in the garage?"

"Honey, you're going to miss your plane if we don't get you to LAX!" Charlie smiled.

"I know, I know, I know, I know" she told him, backing out of the room as she spoke. "I promise, I will be lightning fast! I swear!" she disappeared in a swirl of hair and laughter.

'I'll get your bags to the car!" he called after her, which she acknowledged by turning around and blowing a kiss.

Amita had done her best to pack as lightly as she could, but it was still a struggle for Charlie to lug the large suit case, (and matching carryon tote) to the faculty garage and into her car. He was fairly winded and sweating by the time he managed to accomplish his task. He leaned against the car, resting, for a couple of seconds before heading back in to the building, bent over, hands on his knees, eyes closed. When he opened them, still bending, he was startled to see there was someone standing in front of him, a man. Charlie raised his head and looked straight into the calculating pitiless face of Vance Allard. Uh oh.

Before the shocked mathematician could react, Allard reached out with some kind of club, striking Charlie on the head twice, stunning him. Standing above his victim, Vance discarded the weapon, and stepping around behind Charlie, gripped him under both arms, dragging him towards a waiting SUV. He was a slightly disappointed. Charlie Eppes was a truly great mind. He hadn't expected it to be this easy.

While Allard was still congratulating himself on the success of his little endeavor he was interrupted by the glare of headlights and the sound of squealing tires. He looked up to see a black Dodge Charger speeding towards him. The car screeched to a halt, the lone occupant emerging, gun drawn.

"FBI! Let him go and get on the ground, Allard!" the man yelled.

Allard did let go of Charlie but instead of complying with the remainder of the order, he began to move in the direction of the fed, seemingly unfazed by the weapon aimed at him.

"I said get on the ground, NOW!" the federal agent yelled again. Years of training took over finger tightening on the trigger.

Problem was, Vance hadn't come alone. The SUV roared up, doors flying open. Vance's cronies gave the new arrival no time to adjust to this fresh threat. Only a last second command from their boss saved the agent from being killed outright.

Improvising as events unfolded, Vance made a decision. "We take this one too. This is just too rich, I come here to bag the genius professor and get a bonus. A nice juicy federal piggy. Happy birthday to me." He gestured in the direction of the still dazed Charlie. "Bring him"

As the thugs were moving to grab up the helpless teacher, the elevator doors opened, revealing Amita and two armed campus security guards. Taking in the scene in a horrified instant, Amita instinctively moved forward to protect Charlie.

Ignoring her, Allard's crew opened fire on the guards, hoping to panic what they saw as a couple of poorly trained rent-a-cops. They had no way of knowing that in recent months, CalSci had upgraded the quality of campus security considerably, in the wake of several high-profile incidents. The two guards, better armed and much better trained than many of their private counterparts, instead of panicking reacted forcefully, and a lot faster than expected, returning fire. One of the robbers was hit, the rest falling back to their vehicle. Dragging the unconscious FBI agent along, they were forced to abandon their designs on Charlie. Reaching the SUV, Allard and his gang tossed in their prize and took off.

Shaking off the hands holding her back, Amita made it to Charlie's moaning form. With her help, he was able to sit up, holding a hand to the newly formed lump on the top of his aching head. Slowly he realized Amita was by his side.

"Oh, Charlie! Oh, Charlie! Are you okay?! Come on, look at me! Come on, come on!" Her anxious tone caused Charlie to focus.

"Yeah, yeah, I, I…I'm ok, I'm okay, honey! OW!" Charlie yelped as Amita's hand came into contact with the brand-new injury to his skull.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she apologized frantically, helping him get to his feet. Once he was standing, he saw the open door of the Charger, engine still running.

"We have to call Don. Right now." Sickened, he realized one of his brother's team of agents was now in the hands of Vance Allard.

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"Gotta figure we missed 'em by what, half hour tops? " Colby said, surveying the remains of the abandoned outlaw hideout.

"Yeah, no more than that" Don answered disgustedly. They were getting closer and closer, but couldn't seem to close the deal on this particular bad guy. The worst part about it was, Don got the distinct feeling than on top of everything else, Allard was laughing at them. Especially him. He didn't want to say it out loud , because of how paranoid it sounded, even to himself, but there it was. This whole pursuit of Allard was beginning to take on a personal feel. And that was a bad thing Don knew. Letting it become personal meant making mistakes. Mistakes he and his team could not afford.

The people they were after were sure weren't making many. But that tide, Don considered, was starting to turn. First Denny Carpenter's surrender, and now with the warehouse raid, some valuable intel. Indecipherable, but on for as long as it took to get the coded pages discovered into his brother's hands. Don was willing to bet his career that no criminal could construct a code that Charlie couldn't deconstruct one-handed, and left handed at that. David was on his way to CalSci right now. Getting a signal from the tactical team leader, Don cleared the Bureau's forensics team to enter.

"Time to start going over what we already have. Let's head back in" His phone buzzed.

"Eppes, …What, hey, hey, Charlie, slow down buddy ok? What hap…What!? What happened to David? Son of a…are you ok? What about Amita? Yeah, yeah, listen Charlie, I'm on my way, ok? I'm on my way." He closed the phone to find Colby, Liz and Nikki regarding him with a ferocious intensity.

"Don…?" Colby began, "What is it? What about David?"

Don met the other's scrutiny. "We have a problem"

Someone else might have been upset by the day's developments. Not Vance. Despite Denny's defection and the FBI intrusion, Allard was pleased. True enough, the original prize escaped, but the consolation wasn't bad. He had himself a federal bargaining chip. And he knew just how to play it. He would make the feds give Denny back. It rankled that his stepbrother was in custody, even more so because it happened by Denny's choice. Vance intended to use the captured FBI agent, Sinclair, the man's ID proclaimed, to reverse the situation.

Not for sentimental reasons, certainly. Love for his sibling, or anyone else for that matter, never entered into the equation. Simply put, tormenting his weak brother was one of Vance's chief diversions in life. It had been that way since they were children, and Vance had no intention of giving it up any time soon. Denny was _his_ toy! And no one was allowed to play with Vance's toys without his say so. The Federal Bureau of Investigation was about to learn this lesson the hard way.

Really, his duel with the feds had been a great deal of fun up to this point. Mainly because it wasn't just the government cops he was jerking around. There was also Dr. Charles Eppes. Not many people impressed Vance, who took pride in his own considerable intellect. He was smarter by a lot than most, he knew that. Someone whose brain power was equal to his own was a rare find. So when Allard found out Charlie Eppes was the brother of the agent whose team was assigned to catch him, and that Professor Eppes and Agent Eppes worked together a lot, it was a very pleasurable sensation indeed. Much of Vance's planning and activities since his return to L. A. was designed to draw the attention of the CalSci professor and author. The exciting part was that now, he knew who Vance was too. " Wonder what he thinks of me?" Vance whispered to no one.

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Charlie tried to avoid looking at Colby Granger's face. That way, he wouldn't have to deal with the suppressed rage lurking just beneath the surface of Colby's tightly controlled exterior. Watching Granger move past him, Charlie got the feel that he was in the presence of a changeling. Someone he didn't recognize now inhabiting Colby's body. The sensation was chilling. Who was this stranger? And did Charlie want to know him?

Don was keeping an eye on Granger too. The unnatural calm with which Colby greeted the news of Sinclair's kidnapping was both welcomed and not. Newest member of the team Nikki reacted by swearing. Liz kicked an inoffensive piece of luggage that was incongruously nearby. Colby, however, merely stood clenching and unclenching his fists, contemplating the interior of the Charger as if it would change the events of the past hour.

He stepped away from the car, still silent, and walked past Don, climbing into the passenger seat of the Tahoe. Don got behind the wheel, instructing Liz and Nikki to bring in David's driverless ride. They headed back to the office. Vance Allard might not be aware of it, but snatching a federal agent, _one of his,_ Eppes gritted inside his head, was going to be Allard's critical error. Don intended to make him pay in spades.

Don got busy mobilizing the Bureau's resources. An agent was taken. Everything else went back-burner until that was undone.

Colby was well aware of the Eppes brothers individual attention, but he had no energy to spare to reassure either his boss or his friend. All his concentration had to be centered on getting David Sinclair back alive and unharmed. Colby refused to consider any other scenario.

When Granger was first assigned to the L. A. field office and Don's team, he wasn't sure he and Sinclair were going to mesh as a partnership. They were vastly different. There was also the fact that after Afghanistan and the close bonds Colby had gained and then lost among those he'd served with, enduring that loss again was not something he wanted to go thru. Plus, with the whole undercover thing letting his guard down was difficult. In spite of everything, though, he and David forged a strong friendship, more brothers than friends, really. Their relationship underwent a terrible body blow, one which for a while Colby was convinced it would not weather. But it had. Now they were back. Sinclair and Granger, Batman and Robin, peanut butter and jelly. David and the members of his team were his family, and protecting his family was at the core of who Colby was.

So, while the inner Colby wanted to find Allard and employ some of the more creative methods of persuasion learned during his time in service, he remained outwardly cool, ruthlessly clamping a lid on his fury. Losing it would not help get David back. Granger called into play every trick ever learned in his life to keep the logical side of his brain in the forefront. Later, after Sinclair was safely returned, there would be time to teach certain people the error of their ways. He poured himself another cup of killer coffee and went to rejoin the others.

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Knees drawn up to his chest, Denny Carpenter watched the flurry of activity outside the glass-walled interview room. After a nervous night of protective custody, he was back for more questions. Unsure of what they would ask and he would say, he waited and observed. Something bad had happened, he could tell, but he didn't know what. The FBI agents seemed agitated, angry. Denny could almost feel it from where he sat, trying as much as possible to be unnoticed.

Even so, Denny still felt safe here. Like he had made the right move by turning himself in. Being freed from Vance's twisted unpredictability was indescribable. He nodded. He owed these people for that opportunity. He made up his mind. They could ask him whatever they wanted, and he would tell them. Anything at all. He waited, watching.

Don was returning from yet another pointless time wasting round in the Assistant Director's office, (he didn't have time for "progress" reports when they should be tearing this city apart to find Sinclair!) when his cell vibrated to life. Impossibly, caller id said it was from David.

"Eppes"

"Supervisory Special Agent Don Eppes?" The voice was dry, condescending . Don knew who he was talking to.

"Where is Da…"

"Uh uh. I talk, you listen" Allard went on. "Only I don't want talk to you. I want to speak to the other one. The one who thinks he can walk through fire. Superfed. Put him on" The demand was dripping with contempt.

Walking up to Colby, handing him the open phone, pressing the speaker button first, Don soundlessly mouthed "it's Allard".

"What do you want?" Colby answered tersely.

"Well now, you're not being very polite, Agent Granger" Allard chided.

"You didn't call for an etiquette lesson" Colby was determined not to stroke the other man's ego. "What do you want?" he asked again, spacing each word out.

" To business then. I want my brother. And you're going to bring him to me, if you ever want to see Sinclair again. And to be clear, he doesn't have much time left. Now, listen to me very carefully. Your instructions will not be repeated."

Don and the rest watched and listened for several long moments as Allard laid out the "conditions" for the exchange of his stepbrother for their kidnapped friend. By the clipped, superior delivery it was easy to tell David's captor felt he had the upper hand. Finally, the connection was broken. Colby's agate hard gaze stared at his team lead from a skull's face. He trusted Don implicitly, but they would only have one chance to get this right.

"No way are we going to play this according to what Vance Allard dictates…" Don went on, but Colby, while listening with one ear, found his attention drawn to the fearful, soft-spoken Denny, largely forgotten, sitting in the interview room. Doing the one thing that not even Carpenter suspected of himself had nearly turned this case on its ear, and netted the team the object of their long pursuit. Maybe it still could.

As if sensing the FBI agent's visual examination, Denny raised his head. Seeing Colby studying him, he straightened, squared his shoulders, and nodded his head up and down, one time.

"Don" Colby interrupted his boss mid-word. Eppes looked at the other man inquiringly. Tipping his chin in the direction of the interview room, Granger continued "he got us this close, I think he can get us closer. Denny Carpenter's had a lot of years exposure to his stepbrother's warped universe. If anybody can tell us how to hitchhike through that galaxy, it's him."

"You're the one he trusts, the one he feels comfortable with." Don returned. Get what you can out of him, fast. You heard what Allard said. We only have an hour"

Denny put his feet on the floor and clasped his hands in front of him as the agent came into the room. He was shaking, but prepared. He thought.

"Allard's grabbed one of our people. The man who was with me when I met you at the church. Wants to trade him for you." Colby could see the color leaching from Denny's face upon hearing the words.

The question leapt into the frightened man's mind. Were they considering it? Was the FBI going to give him back? Denny started to hyperventilate.

Colby stopped the panic attack with five words. "That's not going to happen. We won't be turning you over to him. We _are _going to get David Sinclair back. But to do that, we need your help."

Granger leaned forward. "Here's what we need for you to tell us…" he started.

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Pressing the buttons which provided a fresh supply of oxygen and light to his bizarre prison, David gave his surroundings as complete a checkout as he could manage under the circumstances. Shallow breathing and almost no movement were helping to conserve both light and air, but Sinclair believed Vance Allard's assertion that both were severely limited. He knew Don, Colby and the others were working to find and rescue him. He also knew it was altogether possible they might not be in time. He might be on his own getting out of this mess. For the last few hours, David had been working towards that goal with meticulous slowness. Now, it looked like he was beginning to make a little progress.

His first problem, he'd surmised, would be making sure he didn't run out of air before he ran out of time. A full-blown mentally fractured nut log like Vance Allard, (it had taken David about two seconds to figure out his tormentor's identity), would take perverse pleasure in his victim's distress. Especially how long I'm liable to continue breathing, Sinclair told himself. So, priority number one is securing an alternate supply of ventilation. "Gotta be careful" David muttered soto-voiced. Allard might be the biggest, most bright yellow banana of the bunch, but deadly too. And a planner. Obviously, this setup had been meant for someone else, and concocted far in advance. "He's watching me, the prisoner knew. Gotta let 'im see what he thinks he should be seeing." Allard could see him when David activated the light mechanism, but probably had a way of checking on him otherwise. An infared camera or video monitoring system of some sort. "Gotta be careful" he repeated, examining his "enclosure" for weak spots. Almost by accident, he found one. A small, nearly invisible seam of light above his head to the left side of the shaped wooden box he was buried in. Light? If he was truly buried, how could he be seeing light? The attack during which he'd been abducted took place at night. Daylight revealed what darkness concealed. It was possible Allard _was_ lying about his air. And maybe that wasn't all. David set about exploiting the weakness, remembering the all the time spent on stake-outs listening to Colby's war stories. If that miniscule light source he'd discovered was what he thought it was, he just might be able to rewrite the ending to this little drama.

"_We must of crawled thru about five miles of caves after these guys, David" _Sinclair heard Colby's voice in his head. "_We tracked this Taliban cell all over that freakin' valley and then they tried to lose us in this cave system. At one point, I got cut off from the rest of my squad, you know? So I'm doin' the belly crawl thru this stupid cave, dodging angry bats and hungry snakes, getting covered in delightfully fragrant bat caca…" _David's laughter had interrupted the story at this point. "_Anyway" _Colby continued , "_eventually I got to a point where it looked like a dead end. Like I'd lost the guy I was following. And then I look up and see this tiny sliver of light and realize I'm a lot closer to the surface than I thought. Turns out the whole time I slipping and sliding thru darkness and bat crap, I'm also traveling uphill. I figured if I saw it, then so did he, and he'd know these caves probably like the back of his hand. Way out must be up ahead. So I lost a layer of skin squeezing thru an opening about this wide" _Colby told him, holding his hands about ten inches apart, "_found the other end of that sucker, and gave that Taliban guerilla a nice Ranger Granger surprise."_

Remembering the most relevant part of his partner's story, David focused on the light. Maybe he was closer to the surface than he'd thought in the beginning. He kept working. He could see more now. He studied his oxygen supply, there were two canisters. Wait, they were slightly different. He checked the second, looking more closely, then froze when he understood what he was truly seeing. Oh God.

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Bringing the Charger to a halt under the sixth street underpass as he'd been instructed, Colby waited. He felt waves of anxiety coming from his passenger. Both of the car's occupants knew they were being watched from a distance. Evaluated to make sure directions were being followed. How long, Colby wondered, would they have to wait until Allard moved in? And would it be long enough? David's life depended on a yes. Colby tensely awaited the outcome.

His phone trilled. "Granger"

"You follow directions well. Continue to do so and you'll be recovering Agent Sinclair in no time."

"Don't yank my chain. What do we do next?" Colby keeping his voice low and level.

"You know agent, I don't think I care for your attitude. You should show more deference" Allard snapped, mood turning on the dime. "Drive to the Warren avenue dog park. You'll get more instructions there." Click.

Colby looked to his right. "Here we go."

Don surveilled the property before him critically. It was apparently deserted and overgrown but appearances could be deceiving. The weed choked vegetation could be hiding some very nasty surprises. Knowing what they did of Vance Allard, that was, as Charlie would say, "probabilistically very likely." The agents, accompanied by their FBI swat team backup, moved stealthily but cautiously, approaching the small house, with its plywood boards replacing broken window glass. As it turned out, prudence was a very good idea. Encountering no fewer that three well hidden deadly traps in the process, they finally entered the house.

Showing all the signs of prolonged neglect, the interior stank of mold and undisturbed dirt and grime. Partially destroyed drywall exposed the house's bones and plumbing. Nikki Bentancourt jumped as she entered a small room at the back of the tiny home and roused the residence's only occupants, a family, a large one, Nikki could see, of rats, who busied themselves scurrying out of sight. One's path took it over the top of Nikki's left foot. Recoiling, she managed not to yelp. She was an ex-LAPD cop turned FBI agent. She would _not_ jump out of her skin because a rodent ran across her foot. _She would not, she would not, she would not!_ "Suck it up, Nikki" she told herself, "boss man finds out I nearly shot my own foot off because of a rat, the phone book and I might as well get a room."

A greenhouse, nearly the equal in size to the main building itself lay at the rear of the small fenced-in backyard. Hacking thru the uncontrolled detritus of a once lovingly cared for environment, Don and Liz along with two swat team members were hoping for a small miracle. Once the only thing she loved as much as her gifted and unstable son the greenhouse was formerly in the hands of Vance Allard's once doting and now deceased mother. According to the information Denny Carpenter had given Colby, this was the most likely place for Allard to have buried David Sinclair alive. Moving slowly, all the agents kept an eye out for more traps.

"David! David, if you're in here, if you can hear me, let me know" Don yelled, desperately hoping to hear more than the echo of his own voice. Nothing. He went left, putting out a gloved hand to avoid getting scratched by the thorns of an aggressively unrestrained rosebush. He could see Liz off to his right, eyes combing the ground, looking for signs of recent digging.

"David, are you in here? Give us some kind of sign!" Don tried again. Suddenly Liz Warner stiffened, holding up a hand. Don was next to her in a flash.

"You hear that?" she asked, ears straining for the sound again.

"What? I don't hear any…" Don broke off. He did hear it. David. It was Sinclair's voice. He was here! Don and Liz followed the sound. "Keep it up! I can hear you! Keep it up!" Eppes told David.

Ten seconds later they were over the spot. "Hang on David! We'll have you out of there in no time! Just hang in there!" Both could hear David Sinclair, pounding and yelling, though the words were unclear. Liz reversed course thru the greenhouse, returning with two small gardening shovels. Tunneling out the soil covering Sinclair's prison took only little time. Soon enough they were almost face to face with their no longer missing teammate.

"Get a crowbar, get me something to pry this thing open with" Don's order was swiftly complied with. As he levered the iron rod into position, however, he was halted by David's frantic disagreement.

"No! Don, No! Wait, wait! Don't! NO!" David screamed to be heard past the inch thick wood that comprised the top of his improvised "coffin"

"We've gotta get you out of there!" Liz told him.

"You can't just pull the top off, Don. You'll release the gas! It'll take us all out!" David returned. He prayed they would understand.

"Gas?! What gas, David?!"

"Allard's got this contraption rigged with all sorts of stuff. Oxygen tank, light bulb, water bottle, like in a puppy's kennel at a pet store, a video camera, and a cylinder of something I think might be Sarin. I'm pretty sure the lid is the only thing holding down the release mechanism. You take the top off, it'll be like pulling the pin out of a grenade. So, whatever you do, DON'T TAKE THE TOP OFF! Ok!?"

Got it!" Don told him. Hang in. We'll get you out some other way."

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Chapter 18

"Enjoy it while you can" Colby thought at the unseen criminal. They sat in the lush greenery of yet another park. Evidently, Vance was having the time of his life sending the FBI agent and his terrified stepbrother on an extended tour of the city of angels. From the Warren avenue dog park, they had been directed to three subsequent locations. Now they sat waiting for further commands from their deranged concertmaster.

"What now?" Denny asked apprehensively, craning his neck in as many directions as he could.

"Now we wait. We need to buy time. We gotta give Don and the others a chance to find David. Until then, we do what we're told. It shouldn't be long. Allard's having to much fun jerking us around to just let us sit here indefinitely." Colby glanced at his phone. If the established pattern held, it should be ringing right about…

_Ring!_ "Granger"

"Get out of the car and walk away, Agent Granger. Leave my brother there alone. I can see you quite well. So I'll know if there's anyone else around or if you don't obey like a good boy. Do it now." Click.

"This is it" Colby said, opening the door to exit. "Be ready"

Denny gulped, but nodded.

Colby got out and began to walk away from the car, counting steps. The area between his should blades started to itch. A sure sign since his army days that he was being observed by unfriendly eyes. He wouldn't put it past a cold blooded killer like Allard to try for the hat trick, killing two agents and getting his brother back in the bargain. Colby was willing to risk it. Especially since he had his own hole card. Granger would pit the genius of Charlie Eppes against Vance Allard's jacked-up mental processes any day.

"Come on, Charlie" Colby muttered under his breath. "Come on pal. Move the world for me one more time." Moving into a copse of trees, knowing he was hidden from view, Colby stopped behind a huge, old oak. He could still see the car from where he was, still see Denny sitting alone in the front seat. No one approached the vehicle yet. Thirty minutes passed. Just as Colby was concluding that he was about to receive another call with more directions, an SUV drove up and pulled in behind the Charger. Two men emerged, but Granger could see a third who remained, the tinted windows of the SUV not quite hiding his form. As the pair on foot moved quickly to the car, Colby made his own move. Keeping to cover, he used the densely packed growth of the park to mask his approach, getting ever closer to the SUV. Allard's two goons reached the car, one yanking open the door to haul Denny out roughly. Then both drew back, going for their guns as the standard issue FBI Sig-Sauer in "Denny's" hand came up to aim at them.

"FBI! Freeze! Lose the guns!" yelled rookie Agent Mark Pellmer, nearly a dead ringer for Denny Carpenter, Don had noticed earlier. Neither man was inclined to do so of course but both did. Agent Pellmer, who with a little very expert assistance from the Bureau's make-up artists' was well able to pass for Denny Carpenter at a distance, was suddenly backed up by another FBI swat team, converging both in an SUV of their own and on foot from several well concealed hiding places. This one was under the no nonsense leadership of Tim King. Leaving them no time to react, both men, with an abundance of heavy weaponry leveled at them, were flung to the pavement and handcuffed.

Vance, for once taken off guard, made for the driver's seat. The keys were still in the ignition. Just as he was accomplishing his goal, reaching out to start the engine, an elbow came thru the window, slamming him in the head. He saw stars. When his vision cleared, Allard was lying face up on the black ribbon of asphalt looking up at the grimly satisfied smile of Agent Colby Granger, Colby's .45 caliber TRP capturing his attention. Rolling Allard brusquely onto his stomach, Granger took no small amount of pleasure in personally, at last, outfitting Vance Allard with his very own set of metal bracelets.

"Your agent is dead!" Vance hissed maliciously, spitting the words at Colby, full of spite. "You'll never get him back alive now! He's gonna die in the dark, choking to death! And it'll be your fault! His death is gonna be on your hands, you…" Allard's rant cut off as Colby, smiling even wider, held up his cell phone, speaker activated.

"Say that again Don, little louder please." Granger held out the phone so it was audible to the restrained crook.

"I said we got him!" Don jubilant voice came over the line. "We got him out! The medics are looking him over now, but they seem to think he's going to be fine. He was right where Carpenter said he would be! He's ok, Colby. A little dehydrated, but okay!"

Getting right into Allard's face, Colby leaned in. "You were saying?" he asked coldly.

Snarling, inarticulate with rage, Allard was dragged away. SWAT leader King walked up to Granger.

"We got the scene secured here. Go check on your partner."

After making sure Agent Pellmer wouldn't be stranded, Colby got into his car to do just that, relief so palpable that he shook.

"It worked. It worked" he whispered. "Thank you, Charlie" he sent out to his absent friend.

…_Here's what we need you to tell us" Colby told Denny Carpenter. "We need to know what really gets your stepbrother's juices going. You told us he enjoys tormenting you. How? What turns him on the most. I know it's hard for you, but when he wants make you squirm hard, what does he do? And also, what's he most afraid of? What keeps him from getting back to sleep at night? Come on Denny, you know him better than anybody. Help us get in his head. He's spent a lot of years making your life hell. Time to return the favor." _

"_I…I…I don't know if I can help you anymore. You, you, you don't know him. He's a monster. I …I want to help, I really want to help. But I'm so scared. He's a monster!" Denny melted, dissolving into tears. _

"_Funny thing about monsters" Colby's voice penetrated Denny's fear. "They seem terrifying in the darkness. But you flip on the light and drag 'em out into to it…" He paused pulling Denny's hands away from his face, forcing the other man to look at him, "you find their not so scary after all. I need for you to trust me, okay? To trust us"_. _Hesitantly, at first and then with more assurance, Denny responded. Gaining the info he needed, Colby came out of the interview room looking for Charlie Eppes. _

"_Don, Charlie, I got an idea. Charlie you remember what you did when Joey Santiago was kidnapped. How you figured out where me and that duffle bag full of money were gonna end up? You think you can do that again?"_

_Charlie shook his head yes. Colby looked at his boss. "In that case, how about this…"_

"It worked." He breathed again. Shifting into drive, he went to make sure David Sinclair was really alright.

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Colby took care getting dressed. After a lengthy, dangerous pursuit and a lot of legal wrangling, Vance Allard was finally being arraigned in federal court. Colby was not about to miss that. Don's entire team had wanted to be on hand, especially David, but the A.D.'s office and prosecutors had other ideas. It was Colby's day off, however, so he got to represent the rest.

"As long as you just observe. You're eventually going to be a witness. Don't engage him in any way, Granger. I mean it. We can't have you compromising future testimony Robin Brooks warned him sternly. She and Kerri Walton would be prosecuting.

"Just observe" Colby answered. I swear. I won't open my mouth."

He examined his image one last time. Acceptable. New suit, coordinated tie, nothing to attract a judge's displeasure. Grabbing his keys, badge and credentials, he headed out the door.

He'd almost reached the federal parking garage when he noticed some kind of furor surrounding the place. Sirens and crime scene tape were already in place, marked and unmarked cars, with dome lights flashing were there, and Colby could see medical personnel intently attending to a uniformed officer. LAPD was already restricting access, but Granger used his ID to bypass the cordon.

He caught the arm of a passing cop. "What happened?"

"Some guy being brought into court for arraignment managed to get free, jumped the two deputies. Somehow, he got hold of a gun. Shot one, shot at the other. He's in the wind now. The area's being sealed off, but we might already be too late!" The cop rushed off, looking harried.

No! It couldn't be. It had better not be! Colby thought. One deputy, the more seriously injured had already been taken to the hospital. The other was still being attended to by paramedics just inside the courthouse doorway. Granger found the man. A busy paramedic saw his approach and nearly tried to stop him from getting closer. One look at Colby's face made him reconsider _that_ idea.

"Who was the prisoner you were escorting? What was his name" Colby asked, trying to take the situation, and the man's partner's condition into account. He was still steamed. It must have shown. The wounded deputy drew back slightly.

"Guy by the name of Allard. Vance Allard."

Colby stood. Swearing in several languages, he called Don.

"Allard did WHAT!!" After a few seconds of creative speech on his end, Don informed Granger that the balance of the team was on its way there. They'd be too late, Colby guessed. Allard was getting farther away with every minute that passed. And he was too smart to leave a trail that could be easily detected, like jacking a car or running thru the streets in a bright orange jail jumpsuit with DOC stenciled all over it.

Frustrated, Colby jammed a fist into the inoffensive vending machine next to him, rattling the bottles of overpriced water within. That caught his eye. Of course! Of course! That had to be it! It fit too perfectly! It was vintage Vance Allard! That hump was headed into the storm drains! L. A.'s massive storm drain system eventually emptied out at the ocean. Colby knew Allard was perfectly capable of arranging to have a boat waiting for him there.

Shifting into chase mode, Colby contacted Don again, filing him in on the theory.

"I headed for the nearest one now, Don!" Granger said on the run.

"Wait for us! You don't go after Allard without backup, Colby!" Don bawled, hoping Colby would follow the order.

"Don, he's getting further away every second that goes by. Can't wait! Gotta go now!" Colby knew he was wasting valuable time arguing with his boss. "Should have just gone and done it and gotten yelled at over it later" he thought. He'd reached the opening for the storm drain.

Understanding Colby was probably operating on the principle that it was easier to obtain forgiveness than permission, Don acquiesced.

"Watch yourself! You hear me?! Don't take any chances, Colby! I mean it! Watch every step you take down there!" Don was yelling, concern for his agent spilling thru the phone line.

"Don't worry dad, I'll be careful!" Colby replied, closing the phone. He removed the cover for the drain and climbed in, plunged instantly into near total darkness. Allard was probably quite a distance away by now. Nevertheless, Colby instantly switched from FBI agent to Army Ranger, old instincts taking control in the inkiness. He knew this place. It wasn't all that different from the tunnels and caves of Afghanistan. The only discrepancy were the few and far between wire covered lights recessed into the wall four feet above his head

He crept near silently thru the man-made tunnel as swiftly as possible, hearing and sight tuned to maximum. Putting himself in Allard's place, he took the route he figured was most likely chosen by the fugitive. After several minutes, he was starting to think he might have chosen the wrong one, when he was rewarded with a sign. A bright orange flash of color hung up on a nearby grate. Sure enough, it bore the legend of the California Department of Corrections. He was the right track! He started down that section of the drain and stopped. Trying to throw him off by planting that jumpsuit was just the type of thing Allard would try. Backtracking to where the tunnel branched off, he took the left instead of the right section. " Not this time Vancie. Not this time" He moved faster.

Vance could hear someone behind him now. And whoever it was was gaining ground. He hadn't expected his pursuers to figure it out so fast! He'd thought for certain they would be stumbling around up top, setting up roadblocks and checking the airport, bus and train stations. They weren't supposed to be down here, not yet! Who was this coming after him?! He tried to run faster, but his right leg, injured during his escape, refused to cooperate. He was not going to lose his hunter before he could make it to the exit point. Gripping the gun taken from the deputy earlier, he flattened himself to the wall and waited, hearing the person coming after him getting ever more near. Here piggy, piggy. Just a little further, and then you die. The running steps slowed, twanging Vance's brittle nerves. He stepped out and fired blindly into the shadows behind him, unable to see if his shots found their mark.

"Oops! No joy Vancie. I'm coming for you! Miss me?!"

Colby taunted.

Allard recognized the voice. Superfed. That FBI agent, Granger! The man chasing him was Colby Granger. Remembering his humiliating capture, Vance felt the rage begin to boil up in him. He was going to make Granger pay! Teach him who was superior! He fired behind him again, over and over, scattering shots all around the storm drain wall, determined to kill.

Colby returned fire, barely missing.

Vance's anger was so immense that he emptied the clip only realizing it when his ears were met with the sound of a dry _CLICK_!

Cursing, he threw the weapon away. He was NOT going back to prison! Particularly not at the hands of Colby Granger! Vance's desire for self-preservation finally won out. He began moving forward again as quickly as his injured leg would allow.

Colby had waited out the barrage of gunfire, tucked into a shallow alcove. Hearing the gun click empty, he grinned wolvishly, resuming the chase. He could have used his own gun, but since Vance was now unarmed, did not. No lawyer was going to be able to claim Colby shot his "defenseless" client. In the feeble lighting, he could see Allard ahead of him, casting furious, frightened glances over his shoulder.

Seeing his lead evaporate, Allard turned to face him, teeth barred in animal-like fury.

Flying- tackle time! " Yeeehaaa! I must be living right!" Granger exulted to himself. Colby pounced, simultaneously landing a punishing right while hooking his left leg behind Allard, putting the other on his back with an air-expelling grunt. It was not quite incapacitating enough. With the skill of desperation, Allard managed to get his left leg up and planted a knee in Colby's chest. Gripping his opponent by both arms, Vance tossed him overhead. Colby landed on his right side and rolled, just missing the vicious kick Allard aimed at his head.

Lunging upwards, Colby gripped the leg and foot and before Allard could step back, and twisted with one hand, while swiping at the injury on the wounded right leg with the other. It connected.

"Aaaaaauuuuggh!" Allard's howl of agony filled the cavernous surroundings. Colby, determined not to let his adversary recover, leapt on him panther quick, raining savage right jabs on the criminal.

Desperate, Vance's questing hand touched a long abandoned section of rusty iron pipe lying in the mucky water lining the floor of the storm drain. With his remaining strength he aimed for Granger's head. Had he been successful, the contest would have ended then. But he wasn't. The bar struck Colby on the arm.

Catching it with his left hand, Colby wrenched the weapon out of Vance Allard's grip, twirled it once, gripped it in both hands and brought the bar up between Allard's legs. And shoved, hard. _That _ended things. Promptly. The fight left Vance like a puppet with its strings snipped.

Colby rose, still holding the iron bar, while Vance lay mewling in the floor of the drain like an ailing kitten. Half dragging him into a sitting position, He rolled the man over and again put him in handcuffs. Tapping him lightly on the face, Granger waited until Allard's eyes opened.

"Who's your daddy, Vancie? Here's what happens next. Listen to me carefully. Your instructions will not be repeated. You and I are going back up this thing to right where we came in. You're going up first, and I'll be right behind you. If I get even a whiff of you trying something stupid, I'm gonna ram this bar so far up you'll be tasting iron for the next ten and a half to twenty five." His voice lowered to a menacing whisper, "_got it?"_ Pulling the handcuffed felon to his feet, Colby shoved the man ahead of him.

Thanks to Colby's prior calls, Don, David, Nikki and Liz waited at the top of the storm drain opening. Having heard nothing from Colby for what seemed way too long a span, David was lobbying Don to go down into it when the cover moved, and Allard, prodded unsympathetically from below by Granger, fell painfully into the street in front of them. Astonished as they were, Don still made sure to secure Allard's legs before he was taken away by LAPD.

Colby, helped up out of the hole by Sinclair, looked down in disgust at his brand new ruined suit, then at David, who could do nothing but laugh.

Don, taking in Granger's mud-covered, bedraggled appearance, asked with mock severity, "Did you just call me dad earlier?"

Colby stared back. "Well, uh…"

Don shook his head. Colby was Colby. And not likely to change any time soon. That was _probably _for the best.

Back at the courthouse, Denny Carpenter, having made a deal with the U. S. Attorney was there to meet with Robin and Kerri. He was just in time to see his battered stepbrother being brought back, shuffling in manacles and cuffs. For Denny, it was an unbelievable sight. To see the one who had terrorized him for so long so contained and submissive. Briefly Vance raised his head, locking eyes with his former victim, then lowed it again.

"Told you" Denny heard Colby Granger say, as the agent and a group of others walked up. "Pull the monster out from under the bed into the light, he's not so tough, you see?" He gestured at Vance, head still hanging down, who was led away unprotesting to have his latest injuries treated before being taken back to jail. Denny smiled. It really _was _over. One of the female D.A.'s touched him on the arm. As he walked away, he looked back at Colby.

"Thank you"

Colby nodded, then looked at Don and the rest of his teammates. "You know what, I think I'm gonna take the dry cleaning bill out of Allard's prison salary. I really should stop doing this to my dry cleaner, though. It's not pretty to see a grown man cry when a customer comes in the door"

David punched his shoulder. "Come on, partner, let's get you a change of clothes. You smell like you've been rolling around in a storm sewer."

"Yeah" said Liz Warner, joining in. "Walk over on the other side. You're making my eyes water!"

Colby's wounded look was priceless.

THE END


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